Shadow of the Sun (The Shadow Saga) (51 page)

“Well, the sun has shown down upon you today. You, my Lady, may rejoice in the privacy of your own suite,” he said, and eyed the dark-skinned beauty who dropped her eyes, yet seemed gladdened by the opportunity. I put my hands upon my hips. “Pentu, should I not receive the private room?” I gave a loud snort and had to hop from one foot to another.

“I would suggest you do not challenge your room assignment, Your Highness. Accept your designation with grace.” Pentu did not plead, but his expression meant no arguing. “I must leave you now. Someone is ailing and in need of my services. Be well.” Pentu vanished before I could beg him to take me with him.

Rennutet entered my cubicle, pulled out a mat, and unfurled it upon the straw-covered floor. She set her woolen blanket neatly upon it. I stared in disbelief. I’d never slept upon the ground in my life.

“If this displeases you, I could move to the other side,” Rennutet squeaked, meek as a mouse. She wouldn’t return my gaze.

“Stay where you are,” I said, but I felt uncertain.

“The Magistrate is correct; it would not be wise to displease Ra-Nefer- Ankh-Etah. He boxed the ears of Ra-Awab for not carrying his fair share of supplies off the boat, and gave others a warning. This place is not at all like Akhet-Aten.” The girl shivered and flapped her thick lashes like batwings.

My Grand Djedti’s warning came to mind. ‘The perilous path of a Neophyte.’ Could this be what she meant?

“Change into the temple clothes in the baskets,” ordered Ra-Nefer. Rennutet pulled out two ugly woven white sheaths and worn sandals.

“Do as he says. Here,” she stated. The girl disrobed and left her commoner clothes in a pile, replacing them with the ill- crafted ware. I wore a beautiful embroidered white sheath of Aten with a turquoise sheer robe. I cursed under my breath. I detested dressing like a common girl. The Heliopolitan sheath chaffed my skin with its coarseness. We both slipped on the sandals.

“These worn things are big enough for two of my feet.”

“They smell like sweaty old men’s feet,” I complained.

“Line up,” ordered Ra-Nefer. “I do not want to hear one chick’s peep out of you.” He eyed each of us with military precision. He caught sight of the present from my father and chuckled.

“You will not need any finery where you are going. Hand it over.” I covered my necklace. “I will not. This is a gift from Pharaoh Akhenaten, my father.” I emphasized the last part.

“You may have been his daughter before you entered this temple. Now, you are just one more little grunt shrew as insignificant as the dirt upon my sandals.” He smirked.

General Horemheb would give him twenty lashes for his insolence.

My rage welled. And my feet seared. This man coaxed those vile thoughts right out of me. I wasn’t even here a day and I broke the vow of a Neophyte. Feeling terrible regret, I hung my head and removed my Right Eye of Horus necklace, handing it over with tears. My father would be angry that I gave his sentimental present away so easily, or perhaps he would smile that I acted in harmony with the Aten.

“Little shrew,” said Ra-Nefer, grasped my necklace in those coarse hands.

We followed him through the temple and gazed up at the two red granite obelisks that dominated our view. Could we be going to learn the temple rituals? Pentu had told me stories about a secret room, and my excitement grew. I would be privy to all the inner mysteries of this venerated Temple of the Ennead, the first nine great Deities who begat all others. With my inner sight, I tried to peek into those hidden rooms of marvel, but I couldn’t penetrate them. An electrical pulse blocked me and gave me a headache.

We scuffed onward in our uncomfortable sandals. I pinched my toes together to keep them on. Turning the corner, before us we saw the temple aviary. The caged enclosure held a wide array of birds. I recognized a Darter with the attenuated neck, several pouch-billed Pelicans, some crested Purple Herons, and fan-tailed Rock Pigeons. How nice to tour the grounds. My father would be pleased that we received such special treatment.

Ra-Nefer pointed to the buckets and brushes and said, “Make sure all the feces are scrubbed clean. We do not like the muck on our sandals. On your hands and knees, now. When you finish, replace the straw bedding and pick up any unspoiled eggs you find.”

I stepped forward to argue, but Archollos jerked me back by my robe and put his hand over my mouth. His hard muscled chest and arms surprised me. Heat from his body enflamed mine. The others moved in front to cover his actions. I struggled in his grasp and tried to bite his hand so he would free me. Only when I realized the strength of his grip did I surrender. It sent a strange tingle through me, causing gooseflesh to fly up my arms.

“Hush. You will get us all in trouble,” he whispered, freeing me only a scarab’s leg before Ra-Nefer turned around to verify we heard him. Because of Ra-Nefer’s severity, it would be of no use to complain. But complain I would when I next met The Orama and give him an earful when I revealed this indignation. We scrubbed until our knees ached and our hands blistered. The putridity of the excretion made me nauseous. I jumped up and purged into the bucket.

“Enjoying the job?” teased the overseer when he saw me retch. “Go fetch the eggs and bring them to me in the basket under the grain barrel.”

Thankful to be excused, I rummaged around until I found the basket. A guinea fowl ruffled its spotted feathers, making its long pendulous wattle shake.

Hello, there
, I thought.

Oh, you must be new.
The bird clacked its heavy bill, eyes darting nervously.

Yes, this is my first day.

You best do what the overseer says. He has taken many of us, and they never return. He is mean as a hissing swan.

He sent me to find eggs
. I studied the bird’s peculiar helmet of flesh.

Best try the geese nests under the huts. Hurry. He will come to look for you.
It stalked off.

* * *

R
a-Nefer assigned these same horrendous jobs on a daily basis over the next three months. The overseer sent us out in groups into the village to assist the town people in their backbreaking labor. Tadushet and I had to go to the temple kitchens to peel vegetables and scrub pots. Others were sent into town to dig graves, scale fish on the docks, or brew beer.

One night, Rennutet and Smenkhkare came home late. They stank of fish and their clothes were in tatters. Neither complained about the work.

Instead, they washed in the dark and went to bed. I heard Rennutet cry and knew how she felt—my cut hands had grown calloused from the knife. Every muscle in my body ached.

Worse, in all this time I hadn’t learned the secrets of the Temple of Heliopolis. Instead of initiations or temple rituals, we were enslaved by this brotherhood of priests. Each day grew darker and more rigorous than the previous.

Eventually, my muscles grew taut and lean by having exercised our bodies rather than our minds. We believed that by pleasing Ra-Nefer, he would grow less menacing, but that never came to pass. He never learned our names. Instead he preferred to call us grunt dogs or gnarly rats. I’m ashamed of the one time I did object to Ra-Nefer’s treatment.

Instead of punishing me alone, he ordered us to stay late and fill the water pitchers in the quarters of one hundred temple attendants and empty their chamber pots. We missed the last meal of the night, and my classmates hissed like snakes. I still remember Ra-Nefer’s smirk. He made it clear if I so much as questioned his authority in the future, he’d make my class pay for my mistake. It took weeks before they would let me forget my blunder.

No one rescued me. Pentu never visited me. I surrendered to the work because it had a rhythm. Even the terrible names Ra-Nefer called us no longer bothered me. Words seemed meaningless after a while. His mean words could hurt me only if I allowed it. One day when he called me a sniveling worm, I just laughed.

If Rennutet hadn’t cried so much at night, I might have let it all go sooner. Her anguish was a constant reminder of how much this grueling labor tested my spirit. Her tears echoed through the dark of night; her tears mirrored my suffering; her tears tore the last bars off the prison of my soul.

“Rennutet, why do you cry?” I asked, tossing and turning.

“I do not feel well.” She rocked under her blanket.

“Do the fishermen assist you? Scaling fish must be difficult. Your hands should be used to it by now.”

“My hands have grown used to it. Other parts of me never will.”

“Your shoulders? Mine used to ache from the kitchen work. Now I feel much stronger.”

“Go to sleep, Merit-Aten. I am too tired to talk.”

* * *

A
fter four months, one morning Ra-Nefer woke us up earlier than usual.

“Today you must purify. Go to the sacred baths and depilate all hair from your bodies, except, as a Neophyte, you may keep your eyebrows and the hair upon your head.”

He passed out sharp razors. I felt elated. Rennutet and I held hands to contain our excitement. “You women go to the private baths. New clothes will be provided. When the gongs tone, take the path to the temple and wait.”

I stepped forward to ask, “Should we break our fast?” My stomach grumbled.

“No, today you will fast and remain in a meditative state until summoned.” After that final statement, we never saw Ra-Nefer again.

When the afternoon sky waned in pink and oranges hues, multitudes of deafening gongs resounded throughout the whitewashed temple grounds. Deep rumblings could be felt within the depths of our cores. Flamingos, surrounding me like a bouquet of pink roses, commenced their calamitous appeal for food. Plugging my ears, I escaped in my finely woven robe, a welcome replacement for the tattered rags I first received.

I exited the garden, and the other Neophytes swarmed forth, drawn like bees to the golden-domed temple that appeared like a honey pot upon the horizon. The open air portico had nine glistening pillars detailing each of the nine Deities of the Ennead. I glided over a floor of royal blue granite like a sea of stone. The last rays of the sun sparkled upon its crystalline waves as we journeyed down the corridor and through the electrum doors to our right. The site awed me. I dropped to my knees as did the others.

Before us lay the history of Khemit.

The Orama thrust his arms up into the air in beatitude. “Behold the Mansion of the Ben Ben.”

It had fallen from the sky. This black, otherworldly stone descended from the heavens. The ancients worshipped it as the Stone of Creation.

I recalled how the Amunites tried to steal the holy object. Its power was evident as energetic waves pulsed from the stone, making me lightheaded.